


Today Is A Gift

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Illnesses, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Malcolm wakes up feeling ill and just wants Trip to make him feel better.





	1. The Past Cannot Change

Malcolm’s eyes snapped open and he surged towards the edge of the bed just before his stomach contents made their dramatic reappearance.

“Urgh,” he groaned as he held still, eyes shut, and prayed for everything to stop. His stomach suddenly felt like a churning cauldron and his temples absolutely throbbed.

After a minute or two of silence, he finally managed to focus and began prioritising. He needed to clear up and get a glass of water, or possibly comm Phlox, none of which he felt in any state to do right now. Even opening his eyes seemed like a risky endeavour.

“Trip?” he mumbled, half unwilling to wake the other man for help even as he recognised the necessity.

His half-hearted call had no effect so he drew in a shuddering breath and spoke louder.

“Trip.”

A slight frown creased his brow as this produced no reaction either. Not even a shift of bedding or a murmur of sleepy protest. With a slight flare of annoyance, Malcolm forced himself to roll back onto his pillow and wrenched his eyes open to look at his sleeping partner.

There was a momentary lull where even the minimal light in the room shot additional spikes of pain through his head and the unwanted motion caused his throat to convulse again. He held still until he could open his mouth without risk of throwing up again and then felt a much larger spike of alarm as it struck him that Trip wasn’t there.

Malcolm’s brain froze, unable to comprehend why the man wasn’t there. It dawned on him that perhaps Trip was in their bathroom. The light was off but that didn’t mean anything other than that Trip hadn’t wanted to wake him.

“Trip?” Malcolm called out, already realising that the man would have heard him being sick even if he hadn’t heard his name. Unless Trip had passed out himself.

Had they been drinking the night before?

Malcolm struggled to remember before realising his own less than perfect health was probably indicative of the answer. And if Trip had passed out in the bathroom then he might be in even more need of attention than Malcolm. What if he choked? Or what if he’d fallen and injured himself?

The worry for his partner drove Malcolm up from the bed. He had to pause for the room to stop spinning but he grit his teeth and drove the headache and nausea back so he could stagger upright. He was pleased to find the symptoms were easing, or at least he could ignore them.

He hit the light panel and manoeuvred to the bathroom. There was no sign of Trip and Malcolm frowned in bemusement. Where could he be?

He wished he could remember the night before but everything was blank. He didn’t think they’d gone to a party and it didn’t seem likely they’d have drunk much anywhere other than their room. So why wasn’t Trip here?

It was possible, Malcolm finally realised, that Trip had gone to get a hypo himself. In which case, he should make sure the man thought to get two. Usually he wouldn’t doubt the Southern to think of his needs as well as his own but, given the way Malcolm’s own mind was firing sporadically, it was probably better to remind him.

Stepping cautiously over to his comm system, Malcolm rested his head against the cool wall and hit the button.

“Malcolm to Trip.”

The metal beneath his head was quite nice and Malcolm relaxed fractionally before realising his hail hadn’t got a response yet.

“Trip? This is Malcolm. Respond please.”

A second more passed before a groggy voice answered him.

“Malcolm? What’cher calling for? It’s… Christ, gone 3 in the morning!”

“I know that.” Malcolm rolled his eyes as he imagined the dishevelled engineer trying to pull himself together. Then he frowned as he realised this meant the man probably wasn’t in sickbay. “Where are you?”

“Where am I? I’m in mah quarters. Where else should I be?”

“Your quarters? Why are you there?” All the blood suddenly drained from Malcolm’s face. “Oh God. We didn’t fall out did we? I swear Trip, I don’t remember anything but if I did or said anything that-”

“Woah,” Trip interrupted, sounding more alert. “Wait up. You’re losing me. Why are you calling?”

“I woke up feeling ill and you weren’t here.”

There was a long silence before Trip replied.

“You’re feeling ill?”

“I threw up and have the most awful headache. I thought we must have been drinking.”

“No,” Trip answered carefully. “Look, wait there and I’ll come round.”

“Alright love.”

Malcolm cut the call and let his eyes drift shut again as he rested against the reassuring solidity of the wall. Things didn’t spin so much if he stayed still. That and the thought of Trip on his way, calmed Malcolm’s anxiety and consequently soothed his sickness.

The door chime broke him from a slight doze and he moved sluggishly to open it. Trip was wearing casual clothes of sweatpants and sweater that made him look, in Malcolm’s opinion, eminently cuddleable. Feeling sleepy and in need of a bit of physical comfort, the usually tentative Brit didn’t hesitate to press himself against that reassuring warmth and slide his arms round him.

Buried against his lover, Malcolm felt sleep luring him back.

“Come to bed,” he murmured.

“Hang about. Yer said yer were sick,” Trip reminded him.

“Only the once,” Malcolm argued, pressing his face into the firm chest.

“And you can’t remember last night at all,” Trip added. “You really don’t know why I wasn’t in your quarters?”

The direct question made Malcolm pull back enough to meet Trip’s worried gaze. The man looked genuinely concerned and Malcolm realised he wasn’t going to be allowed to brush this aside. He shook his head.

Trip let out a huff of breath.

“I think you need to go see Phlox. There’s something wrong here.”

Malcolm pouted. He didn’t like going to sickbay at the best of times and right now he really didn’t want to go. He had Trip back where he should be and all he really wanted was to curl up and fall asleep safe in his arms.

“Can’t it wait until morning?” he protested.

“No.”

Trip was clearly not about to let him avoid it. Malcolm sighed.

“Can I at least put some proper clothes on?”

“If you mean your uniform, then no. You’re as dressed as I am.” Malcolm was about to protest when Trip caught his hand and his gaze. “I’m worried about you. Please?”

If there was one thing Malcom couldn’t resist it was an entreating Charles Tucker.

“Alright,” he acquiesced, making the most of the opportunity and gripping Trip’s hand tightly.

Trip smiled briefly but he was clearly still worried. He pulled Malcolm into motion and they set off towards sickbay.

For his part, Malcolm felt much better now. Having been awake a little while, his headache had receded and his stomach settled. Better still, he had Trip with him again and everything was always better when it was the two of them together. He surveyed Trip’s profile as they rode the turbolift and wondered if Trip knew how very important he was to Malcolm’s peace of mind.

“I love you very much, you know,” he commented.

His voice startled Trip who looked to him in some surprise. Malcolm felt a momentary spike of alarm until the other man smiled softly at him.

“That’s right nice to hear, but right now I’m more concerned with getting you well.”

“I’m fine,” Malcolm countered automatically even as they made their way to sickbay.

“We’ll let the doctor be the judge o’ that.”

“The judge of what?” Phlox’s voice greeted them as he caught the end of their conversation.

“Something’s not right with Malcolm.”

“Hhhm. Can you be more specific?” He gestured for the lieutenant to sit himself on a biobed.

“I awoke with vomiting and a severe headache,” Malcolm responded promptly. “But both symptoms seem to have faded now.”

“That’s not all,” Trip added, shifting somewhat awkwardly. “He… well, he can’t remember yesterday evening and thought I should be in his quarters last night.”

Malcolm frowned, wondering how it was everyone but him seemed to know why Trip was sleeping apart from him.

Phlox seemed particularly interested in this detail.

“Really? And may I presume that you do not habitually spend the night in the lieutenant’s quarters?”

Trip flushed bright red.

“No. We ain’t involved like that.”

Malcolm couldn’t stop his look of betrayal and Trip met it apologetically.

“I’m sorry Malcolm but whatever you think yer remember… it isn’t real.”

Malcolm had suffered his share of injuries in the line of duty but nothing compared to this one. Trip was denying their involvement? Why would he do that? Malcolm remembered…

He frowned as he tried to pin down his memories. There’d been no doubt in his mind that Trip should have been with him but now he tried to remember how they’d got together, or their first kiss, or…

Another wave of nausea washed over him and he leant over the bed to vomit. A faint hiss by his ear told him the doctor was injecting him with something.

“That should stop the nausea,” he told him while helping him back to rest more comfortably. “It seems you have a concussion Lieutenant. Probably from that combat training session. It will pass but I’d like to keep you under observation tonight and tomorrow.”

“He’ll be alright doc?” Trip looked if anything even more concerned than earlier.

“He’ll be fine Commander.”

Trip looked towards Malcolm but the Brit couldn’t make himself meet those blue eyes anymore.

“Do you want me to stay a while?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Malcolm answered stiffly. “You should go get your rest. I… appreciate your assistance.”

“No problem. You know I’m always here if you need me right?”

Malcolm had to turn his face away as he felt the burn from the words. He bit his lip, not able to trust himself to make any response. The urge to curl up and cry was almost overwhelming but he’d be damned if he embarrassed himself further in front of the man.

“Night Malcolm.” Trip’s voice was soft and regretful but that only made Malcolm’s pain worse. As soon as he heard the sickbay doors swish shut he allowed himself the luxury of curling into a foetal shape and burying his face into the pillow.

The pat of a hand on his shoulder made him flinch.

“Get some rest Lieutenant,” Phlox said, usually quietly. “I’m sure everything will seem better in the morning.”


	2. The Future Is In Motion

Trip had trouble getting back to sleep that night.

The look of betrayal on the lieutenant’s face when he’d told Phlox they weren’t involved haunted him. When he did manage to nod off, his dreams revolved around the feeling of the other man snuggling against him, seeking protection in his arms, trusting Trip to keep him safe… only to be dragged away despite their protests.

He awoke with an acute feeling of loss and a deep sense of failure.

Still he deliberately kept his distance the following day. The man had been under the influence of a head injury. It was completely unfair of Trip to seek to twist Malcolm’s confusion to suit his own desires.

Though he couldn’t help but think about it.

Did it mean something that Malcolm had imagined a relationship with Trip rather than, say, Travis? Or had that simply been the result of seeing the Chief Engineer’s name on a report before he fell asleep?

Maybe the whole thing was no more than an unconscious expression on the part of the armoury officer to rely on someone else for a change. But if so, why not the captain or T’Pol? The captain was ultimately responsible for the crew and the First Officer was Malcolm’s direct superior officer.

Perhaps, Trip’s hopeful heart suggested, Malcolm would be swayed by the experience enough to consider Trip as something more than friend anyway, even though all the evidence suggested he’d never been interested in men.

At least Trip had got to hold him. And he’d heard the beautiful British accent say he loved him. Trip would cling to that particular memory even if he was left with nothing else.

How he got through that day without causing an accident he had no idea but he resolved to speak with Malcolm as soon as he could the day after. The lieutenant had been released to his quarters and it took all Trip’s willpower not to visit him there. But he was resolved not to pressurise the other man in case the whole thing really was just a momentary madness on the Englishman’s part.

If he kept their interactions open then Malcolm would be able to brush it off. If he approached the man directly in his room then the whole affair might become very awkward.

So he arrived early at the messhall, intent on checking in with the other man over breakfast. But despite sitting there until the last possible minute before he was due on shift, Malcolm didn’t show. Trip headed to engineering feeling somewhat frustrated but cautioned himself not to overreact.

He was sorely tempted to head up to the bridge over the course of the morning but managed to distract himself running some simulations. A confrontation in front of the bridge crew probably wouldn’t be beneficial to either of them. As soon as lunchtime rolled round though he bounded back to the mess.

His eager gaze saw Travis and Hoshi but no sign of Malcolm. When he joined the ensigns they explained that there’d been a misalignment in one of the phase cannons and Malcolm had headed off there to fix it. He nodded somewhat morosely and berated himself for jumping to conclusions.

By the time evening was rolling in though, and he had not seen Malcolm once despite having eventually given in and tried to track the man through the armoury and several Jefferies tubes, Trip had to conclude the Lieutenant was avoiding him.

Trip stomped into his quarters and slumped his clothes off as he headed to the shower. When the hot water sluiced over him he let out a heartfelt sigh and tried to think rationally.

He’d thought the other man would be embarrassed. That was no surprise. For the nigh-on reclusive Brit to have imagined them in an intimate romantic relationship would undoubtedly unsettle him. But he’d thought his friend would deal with it openly, accept the teasing he’d no doubt expect Trip to offer and hope to move on.

It was hardly the first time Malcolm had been embarrassed but he nearly always faced it squarely by offering a joke at his own expense and inviting teasing from the others.

So what was different this time?

Trip stood with water pouring over him unnoticed as his thoughts coalesced into one very tempting idea.

It was impossible… or really unlikely anyway… but also perhaps the only thing that made any sense to Trip. He should probably sleep on it. Try and assess more carefully or even look for more evidence.

As the water allocation timed out, Trip strode from the shower determined. It was a crazy idea but now he’d thought it there was no way he was getting to sleep without testing it out.

He grabbed his sleep clothes and hauled them on before striding out of his quarters. It occurred to him belatedly that perhaps he should have worn something else but he’d be damned if he turned back now. He knew if he stopped to think then all his courage would fail and it was entirely possible Malcolm would slide back into his Lieutenant Reed shell.

Even if this all blew up in Trip’s face, he didn’t want Malcolm to feel he should be the one needing to hide away. If Trip made the offer now, then at least _he_ could legitimately be the one to withdraw, leaving Malcolm the high ground.

He pressed the door chime and took a deep breath.

The door slid open and revealed Malcolm, clearly dressed for the gym.

“Commander.” His tone was still clipped and professional though, even if his attire wasn’t.

Trip gestured at his own clothing choice.

“Does it look like ah’m on duty Lieutenant?”

Malcolm’s gaze flickered downward and a faint blush tinged his cheeks. Trip abruptly realised he was wearing the same outfit as when he’d visited Reed at 3am the first time.

The blush gave him confidence though.

“Can ah come in?”

There was a brief hesitation but then Malcolm stood aside and gestured him inside.

“What can I do for you Comm… Trip?” he amended, although it still sounded briskly formal.

“Yer can tell me why you’ve been avoiding me,” Trip challenged.

Malcolm’s gaze fixed on a far patch of wall and he assumed a parade rest posture, either consciously or subconsciously.

“I would have thought that was obvious.”

Trip had half expected a denial but he wasn’t fazed. Instead he nodded vaguely and made himself more comfortable.

“I thought it was at first but then I realised yer never usually this awkward about things. T’ be honest yer usually the first in line to take the piss out of yourself when you’ve cocked something up.”

The brusque assessment brought Malcolm’s eyes back to his in surprise and Trip pressed his momentary advantage.

“I could understand you being embarrassed. I mean we’ve all been there, acting out under the influence of somethin’. I damn near shot T’Pol thinkin’ she was a Vulcan spy. Then I thought about that some more and realised I believed she was a spy ‘cause deep down, I didn’t trust her. It was just an amplification of feelings that were already there. So I wondered… what if you’re embarrassed not because it was completely out of character… but because it was demonstrating what you wanted but were afraid to admit?”

Trip had held Malcolm’s eyes throughout but at this the Brit broke the gaze to stare at the floor while a flush crept across his cheeks. He waited for a response – any response – but the other man remained resolutely silent.

“Malcolm?”

“Please leave,” the whispered plea was almost too quiet and it took Trip a second to decipher. In that moment Malcolm continued, “I can’t bear to have you…”

Malcolm swallowed and seemingly couldn’t finish.

“Can’t bear… what Malcolm? To hear me say I love you too? That holding you in mah arms was the single best thing to happen to me on this mission? To know that when you trusted me, confused and sick, that you trusted me to help you was the proudest moment of my life.”

Malcolm’s pale blue eyes were wide as he stared at the engineer and for a horribly long moment Trip thought he’d royally screwed up. That his hope really had been too good to be true.

Then Malcolm smiled, slowly, tentatively, but genuinely.

“You love me?”

“More than anything darlin’,” Trip confessed in a relieved rush.

Malcolm ducked his head again but this time the blush was one of pleasure and Trip risked moving closer so he could rest his hands on the man’s shoulders.

“Don’t I get a reply?” he teased gently, a smile fixed now to his face.

The lieutenant looked up with a face positively glowing.

“I love you too.”

Trip’s smile broke into a sappy grin.

“And that’s not a concussion talking this time yeah?” he confirmed. “Phlox cleared you right?”

“He did indeed,” Malcolm agreed, bringing his own arms up to rest on Tucker’s shoulders.

Trip manoeuvred himself closer, arms sliding round a slim waist.

“Still, I think it’d be best if I kept an eye on you tonight,” he offered as seriously as he could. “Make sure there’s no more ill effects.”

“That sounds lovely,” Malcolm murmured and leant his head against Trip’s shoulder.

Trip settled his own head on Malcolm’s and let out a contented sigh.

He may not have kissed the man yet, and there were certainly a lot more things they’d need to discuss, but as long as he got to hold him like this Trip knew he was the luckiest son-of-a-gun in the universe.

Lieutenant Reed might be in charge of security on the ship, but Trip Tucker was going to be the one to protect Malcolm. For as long as they both shall live.


End file.
